


The Heart Will Go On

by Amina



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Titanic AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amina/pseuds/Amina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Titanic au! Scott is a third class artist who won his ticket at a lucky hand of poker. Isaac is a rich man hopelessly entangled with high society. What will happen when their paths cross on the Titanic?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart Will Go On

**Author's Note:**

> *hint* you know what happens when their paths cross.

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of teen wolf nor do I own the story of Titanic. This is based very much off of Jame's Cameron's "Titanic".**

**  
**

 The sea breeze drifted in through the doorway, momentarily cooling the sweaty little bar Scott sat in. The upperclass tottered by out the window in fine dresses and linens, decidedly removed from the bottom feeders in the bar. Dirty dog eared cards were laid out on the table, and Scott was concentrating on the pile of riches in the middle. Coins shined in the smoky sunlit air, but it was the tickets that caught his eye.

The three men on the opposite side of the table from him, two old sailors, chewed their lips and puffed on cheap cigars as they eyed their hand. Scott shot a glance in Stiles' direction, hoping he got the message that he was going to win this thing. The men revealed their hands, believing that they had won, but Stiles screamed when Scott disclosed that he held a full house. His friend jumped up and embraced him. Scott grabbed the tickets and ran out the door before the men could object and slit his throat.

The sunlight blinded the friends as they burst out of the pub. Seagulls flew lazily in circles overhead, hoping to score a morsel of food from below. They ran frantically, trying to catch the huge ship before it left for America. Their feet trampled over the toes of the rich in their haste. They brushed a gold accented carriage, rocking it slightly. A tall lean man emerged, his curly locks gleaming in the bright sunlight. He looked up at the monstrous vessel with contempt.

“I've seen bigger,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose up at the smoke it emitted. A small woman wearing a large pink dress shifted out of the carriage behind him and squeezed his shoulder tightly.

“But you haven't dear Isaac. The Titanic is the largest ship in the world, and the most luxurious,” she corrected, pushing past him to talk to her servants about where to put her luggage on the ship, her floppy pink hat shielding her eyes from the sun.

Scott and Stiles managed to break through the inspection line just in time to board the ship third class, only receiving admittance due to their American accents. They searched for their room and found the companions of the two sailors they played. Stiles jumped up to the top bunk, laughing at Scott's protest. They resolved to use the rest of the afternoon to explore the city like ship. They rushed to the bow, holding onto the ropes and screaming out across the vast ocean, their voices reaching no one, but satisfying them all the same.

“I'm king of the world!” Scott shouted. Stiles clapped him on the back. Other third class passengers were fitting into their tiny bunks while the first class was attending an early supper in the grand hall. The Titanic was less of a ship and more of a movie palace, with gold and silver tapestries lining the walls of the hall and mahogany tables stretching half the length of the room. Isaac sat at a small round table with his betrothed, his mother, and some of the financiers and wealthy passengers of the ship. Isaac toyed with the food on his plate, pushing some sort of fish around and around with his fork, imagining it was still in the ocean swimming away from a shark or a fisherman's net, lost in his own world.

“Isaac? Isaac!” His mother shouted, snapping him out of his trance. He shook his head quickly, looking up at the table of faces looking at him with blank expressions. He licked his chapped lips, blinking a couple times.

“I'm sorry what?” He smiled, trying to placate them. Charlotte tittered at his absentmindedness, sending a shiver of uneasiness down his spine. The rest of the tabled giggled at his distracted nature, pausing momentarily to delicately shovel fish eggs into their mouths.

“I told you, good thing Isaac has me around. I don't know what kind of thoughts fill his pretty little head,” Charlotte ruminated, running a hand through Isaac's hair. His mother questioned a man dressed impeccably in a black tailcoat about the machinery of the ship, and asking one of the financiers about the naming of the Titanic.

“I wanted the name to have the meaning of size, luxury, and of course strength, but I suppose size equals strength,” he chuckled. Isaac rolled his eyes and found words spilling out over his tongue without discretion.

“Well if you were familiar with Dr. Freud, you might realize that size does not always mean prowess,” he spat. His mother recoiled in horror.

“Isaac, what's gotten into you?” She shrieked. Charlotte laughed and wrapped a gloved hand around his shoulders

“Forgive Isaac. He's been feeling a little ill lately. You should probably skip dessert dear,” she said, a hint of fake worry present in her voice. Isaac shook her off, staring down at his plate.

Meanwhile, Scott took the opportunity to observe some of the other passengers at the back of the ship. In the dwindling daylight, he watched an old poor couple hold hands and bicker and a young man rock his infant daughter under the moon. The people were immortalized in his sketchbook, an old tattered thing that he carried under this arm, his only real possession. He didn't know when he had become good at art. He supposed he acquired the skill in Paris, where his only way of capturing his adventures was by his hand and a pencil. He sat working on his sketches long after his subject had retired for bed, lightly shading in the shadows and adding in the wrinkles that brought them to life.

Suddenly, a man ran by, sobbing and throwing himself at the fence that protected the passenger from falling into the icy water below. He ran a hand hurriedly through his hair and shed his overcoat onto the deck of the boat. He swung a leg over the fence and lowered himself over the edge, holding his breath and trying to gain the courage to let go. Scott jumped up, casting aside his sketchbook and jogging over to the distraught man.

“Don't do it,” Scott said cautiously, not wanting to incite the man to jump. Isaac was startled, looking back at the stranger in surprise.

“Stay back! Don't come any closer or I'll jump,” he threatened, tears still running down his face. Scott inched forward slowly, indicating that he had throw out a cigarette over the edge. Isaac allowed him to approach apprehensively. “Just leave me alone,” he cried, realizing he sounded like a spoiled child.

“Hey, now I'm invested. If you jump, I jump in after you,” Scott said matter of fact, shrugging off his grubby jacket and boots. Isaac looked back at the boy like he was crazy, which he was.

“Don't be insane, you'd die,” he chuckled bitterly. Scott shook his head

“Nah, I'm a good swimmer,”

“The fall alone would stop your heart,” Isaac countered. Scott just drew closer.

“It would hurt, but I'm more worried about the water. Water that cold feels like 10.000 knives stabbing every inch of your body. You can't even think about anything except letting the water into your lungs so that you might die rather than experience the pain any longer,” he said cooly. Isaac looked down at the water with new fear in his eyes. “I'm from Beacon Hills California, but when I was a kid, my father, before he left us, took me to visit some relatives in Canada. Parts of Canada are very cold-,”

“I know how cold Canada is!” Isaac snapped, getting impatient with the boy. Scott held up his palms defensively.

“Sorry sorry! You just seem like a sedentary type of guy. I wasn't sure you paid attention to stuff like that. Anyway, we went ice skating, and I fell through some thin ice, and let me tell you, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. My fingers were frozen for two days afterwards...,” Scott trailed off. “It won't be fun, but I'm willing to do it to get you back,”

“You're crazy,” Isaac shouted.

“A lot of people say that, but I'm not the one standing over the edge of a ship,” he chuckled. “Come on. You don't want to do this. Just give me your hand. I'll help you back over,” Scott offered, holding his hand out for the boy to take. Isaac turned around hesitantly, gripping the boy's hand and smiling sheepishly. “Scott McCall,” his savior grinned. Isaac blinked to try and clear his eyes of tears.

“Isaac Lahey,” he gasped. His slick dress shoe slipped on the rail, coated with sea spray. He plummeted towards the water, eliciting a scream from the man. Scott was pulled towards the fence, but he braced himself and pulled back on the boy he had worked so hard to save.

“It's okay Isaac. I've got you, but you have to pull yourself up,” Scott wheezed, trying to keep his grip on the boy's arm. Isaac nodded and reached for the railing with his other hand, slowly raising himself with every ounce of strength he had. Scott hugged his waist when he crested the railing, tugging him back to safety. The pair toppled over onto the deck where they collapsed fleetingly from exhaustion.

Hearing Isaac's screams, Charlotte and an entourage of security guards rushed over to where Scott and Isaac lay in a heap on the ground. Knowing the punishment for harming an upper class citizen, Scott immediately backed off, but he still found himself being handcuffed by a tall gruff man. Isaac leaned against a pillar wrapped in a blanket. Charlotte stomped over to Scott, pointing a finger accusingly at his face.

“How dare you try to take my Isaac like that. I have half a mind to throw you over the edge right now!” She screamed through gritted teeth.

“Stop!” Isaac interjected. “He saved me. I uh, uh, I was leaning far over the edge trying to see those uh animals the...” Isaac motioned a dolphin jumping above the waves.

“Dolphins,” Charlotte finished for him, rolling her eyes at his typical stupidity.

“Right the dolphins! I was leaning over to see the dolphins, and I slipped. Luckily, Scott was here to pull me back over the edge,” he smiled. Scott nodded quickly, wondering why Isaac was leaving out the real details of the story and why no one was calling out that Dolphins don't swim this far north. Charlotte eyed him suspiciously but ultimately relented.

“Well then he's a hero. Is a twenty okay?” She asked, opening her little purse to pull out some money. Isaac huffed.

“Is that the going rate from saving the life of your betrothed?” He asked. Charlotte shot him a glare and stood up straight.

“How about you join us for dinner tomorrow night? Dress nicely,” she said, disappearing before Scott could give her an answer. Isaac gave him a small wave before following his fiance back to first class boarding.

Isaac sat drying off in his pajamas in front of a mirror, brushing his hair gently. Charlotte glided over to him, holding a box in her slight arms.

“Darling, you've seemed a bit morose lately. I've no idea why,” she cooed, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. “I hate to see a pretty face like yours look so glum, so I have a present for you, a token of my affection if you may,” she grinned, opening the small box to reveal a stunning blue diamond ring. Isaac's eyes widened in shock.

“My god. It's enormous,” he said in wonder. Charlotte smirked slyly.

“Yes, it belonged to Louis XVI, and it has recently fallen into my possession. They call it la coeur de la mer. The-,”

“Heart of the sea,” Isaac cut her off. She slid the beautiful silver ring over his finger, and he watched as the light from the room cascaded off the angles in it. He pulled it off and set it back in it's box and locked it in the safe in his room, afraid of losing the precious stone.

Scott flipped through the pages of his sketchbook, remembering the characters he had captured for the day, but he wished that he had had the chance to draw Isaac.

To his surprise, Isaac found him on the deck and invited him to walk around with him on the first class passenger's deck. He gladly obliged, grabbing his sketchbook and following the man to the land of wealth. He was only dressed slightly less extravagantly today as he was the day before. He was extremely polite, asking Scott about growing up in California and what was his favorite food and how did he get onto the ship, but he suspected that wasn't the only reason they were walking together.

“You've asked me about my life, and we've discussed the nice weather, but I doubt that's the real reason you asked me to walk with you,” Scott suggested. Isaac stopped dead in his tracks.

“You're right,” he said stiffly. “I wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday, and you're discretion,” he added quietly. He was putting on a calm face now, but Scott could still picture the ill composed man of the night before, about to throw his life away. “You must think me silly. Thinking, poor rich boy, what possibly could he have to be sad about,” he chuckled, turning away from Scott. The poor boy grabbed his arm, holding him there.

“No, not at all. I thought, wow, what has happened in this poor man's life to make him want to end it,” he said earnestly. Isaac looked arrested. He stopped and looked at Scott thoughtfully, deciding whether or not to let his walls down. Finally, he sighed.

“I feel like I live my life at a big noisy party with tons of people, and it's suffocating. I can't breathe, but when I scream, no one notices me,” he said, looking down at the ground. Scott examined his face, trying to find the source of the trouble. It dawned on him.

“Do you love her?” Scott asked suddenly. Isaac's head shot up.

“We are engaged to be married, and she is rich and cultured,” Isaac stated. Scott shook his head.

“I didn't ask if she was worthy to marry. I asked if you loved her,” Scott reiterated. Isaac pulled away.

“How dare you ask that! How rude,” he said incredulously, avoiding an answer. “I have thanked you, which is what I came to do, and now I'm going to leave,” he narrated, but he stopped halfway. “Wait, this is my part of the ship, so you leave,” he said, flustered. Scott chuckled.

“Now who's rude?” Isaac huffed, grabbing the sketchbook from his arms to move him along.

“What are you some kind of artist?” He asked pointedly, flipping through the pages. However, he couldn't keep his anger and sat down on a chair to further inspect the drawings. “These are actually very good,” he said, impressed.

“Thanks, but they didn't think so in Paris,” he laughed, looking over his shoulder.

“You liked him,” he stated, noticing the multiple drawings of the same man. “I suppose you had a love affair with him,” he smiled.

“No, just his hands. He had nice hands. I like drawing hands. My friend Stiles has very nice hands, there are some of his hands in that book as well,” Scott flipped a few pages to show Isaac a very annoyed Stiles posing with his hands in the air.

“You're very good. You must have gone to a very fine school,” Isaac said absentmindedly, not fully realizing who he was talking to. He tore himself away from the pictures when he noticed his mistake. “Oh no, I'm sorry, I forgot...” he moved to apologize for the assumption, but Scott brushed him off.

“It's okay. I know I'm poor. It's not a problem. You don't have to be rich to learn how to do things. I can teach you how to do some of those things,” Scott winked, lighting a cigarette. Isaac closed the sketchbook.

“Really? Like what?”

“Well... I can teach you how to ride like a cowboy, play poker, and spit,” he joked. Isaac threw his head back and laughed, a sound like music to Scott's ears.

“Spit?” he asked.

“What? They don't teach you how to spit in rich people school?”

“Certainly not,” he grinned.

“How 'bout I show you right now?” He leaped up, grabbing the other boy's hand and running towards the deck. Isaac reluctantly followed, laughing and uttering half hearted protests. Scott stopped and hawked a huge wad of spit over the ocean. Isaac raised an eyebrow.

“Very impressive,” he smirked. He drew himself up, mimicking Scott's motions, but he only got half as far.

“Nice try, but you gotta really dig deep inside yourself like this see,” he explained, summoning all the phlegm inside himself, emitting disgusting noises. Isaac laughed but stopped short when he caught site of his mother behind Scott with one of the newly rich women. Scott spun around and promptly swallowed his spit.

“Hello mother. This is Scott,” Isaac introduced, slipping back into the posh facade he kept up. His mother looked the boy up and down with disdain.

“So you're the Scott Isaac has been talking about,” she said scathingly. “I suppose we shall see you at dinner. Come along Isaac,” she gestured, moving past Scott without a second thought. The woman with fiery red hair that had been standing next to Mrs. Lahey smiled at Scott.

“I'm Lydia Martin, oil baron, What are you planning on wearing tonight?” She asked kindly. Scott gestured down at his dirty threadbare clothing. She rolled her eyes. “That's what I thought. Come with me, I have an idea,” she grabbed his arm, leading him to her quarters.

He was dressed in a suit that probably cost more money than he made in a year. Lydia circled him, eyeing the fit of it.

“Just as I thought, you're almost the same size as my husband. You can wear it tonight. No need to thank me. I'll see you there!” She smiled, donning a big purple hat and leaving him alone in the room. The man standing before him in the mirror was a stranger.

He walked to the unfamiliar part of the ship hesitantly, sure that they would know that he didn't belong, but the waiters at the base of the long stairs nodded their heads respectfully as he passed. It was like stepping into an alternate universe. He had never seen such extravagance, and he was so enamored by the décor that he nearly missed Isaac standing before him, beaming at his visage.

“You look lovely! Walk with me,” he offered his arm. Scott took it and spun his head around the room, taking in the people. “Just pretend like you're money and they'll believe it,” Isaac giggled. A live band played a charming quiet song on violins as they sat down to dinner. While Scott fooled most of the gentry in the room, Isaac's mother was not easily deceived.

“So how are the accommodations in steerage?” She asked, plastering on a fake smile. Scott was not easily deterred.

“The best I've seen. Hardly any rats,” he smiled. Lydia laughed loudly while the rest of the table exchanged awkward glances. Scott was lost when it came to which fork to use. Why did there have to be so many? But Lydia quietly told him to work his way inwards.

Charlotte's glare grew stronger the more Isaac looked at Scott. He wasn't just looking at Scott. He was laughing and grabbing his hand, listening intently, not rolling his eyes; he was enamored. Dinner was soon over, and some of the party was retiring to a library, presumably to drink scotch and smoke cigars.

“You should come with us, Scott,” Lydia suggested warmly. Isaac sat alone at the table, clearly he was not going with them.

“No, that's okay. I think I'm going to head back,” He answered kindly. Charlotte let out a bitter laugh.

“That's probably for the best. We're going to talk politics and business, which you know little about,” she assured him. The group disappeared down a hallway, and Scott turned back to Isaac.

“Are you ready to see a real party?” He smiled.

Isaac had never seen anything like it. Irish music was playing loudly and haphazardly. People of all ages were dancing. Some were dancing well, and some were dancing poorly, but they were all having a good time. Scott took a little girl and began stomping out moves to a jaunty melody. A huge smile spread across the girl's face. When the song ended, he held out a hand for Isaac to join him.

“Hey!” The little girl cried.

“You can't have me all to yourself. Don't worry, you're still my number one,” he winked at her, making her stop pouting and smile. The music started back up, but Isaac didn't know where to begin.

“I don't know the steps to this music,” he shouted over the din. Scott shook his head.

“Me either!” He replied, and the two began to shake and jump and sing along to the words to the song they didn't know. They continued for hours, Isaac having the time of his life. Finally, when they were both too tired to move, Isaac bid Scott goodnight and retired to his chamber.

The next morning, Isaac sat down to a breakfast on Charlotte's private deck. He sipped orange juice out of a wine glass and scarfed down scrambled eggs.

“How come you didn't come say goodnight to me?” She asked.

“I was tired,” Isaac brushed it off.

“No doubt, your adventures below deck were exhausting,” she hissed. Isaac looked up, surprised.

“You followed me,” he stated in disgust.

“You will never behave like that again Isaac. I have a reputation to uphold. I can't keep it if my husband to be goes gallivanting around with flea bitten dogs,” she snapped. Normally, Isaac would not retort, but today was a new day.

“You cannot treat me like this. I am not some servant you order around or one of your father's mill workers. I am your fiance,” he said proudly. Charlotte laughed hysterically, rising and throwing her wine glass against the wall. Isaac's mouth dropped.

“Yes, my fiance. Which means you should act like my husband. You honor me like a husband! Do I make myself clear?” She upended the table, drawing close to Isaac with a broken plate in her hand. Isaac swallowed thickly, surprised to see the monster that lied beneath her prim exterior.

“Y-yes,” he stammered. Charlotte excused herself, flanked by the servants that followed her around like lost puppies. Isaac was left to pick up the broken pieces of breakfast, trying to hold in his screams.

His mother came into his room as he was dressing for the day, excusing the man tying his tie.

“You are not to see that boy again,” she warned, taking over the man's job.

“Come off it mother,” Isaac answered angrily.

“No. Stop being so selfish. You know the money's gone,” she reminded him. She told him this much every day, but never had she sounded so desperate. “Charlotte is our only hope,” she pleaded with him. His mother's worry cracked through her usual austere countenance.

“Of course mother. I won't see him again,” he said, meaning it sincerely. The two joined Charlotte and some others for a tour of the ship given by the captain and some of the engineers.

“The Titanic is approximately 269.1 meters in length. It can carry a maximum of 3,547 people. It currently is carrying 2,223 people on board,” he smiled, leading them into different rooms. “It can travel up to 23 knots and is powered by 29 boilers,” he stated, gesturing down to a door which presumably led down to the boiler room. “As you can see, these are some of our lifeboats. There are currently 20 lifeboats onboard, able to carry up to 65 people,” he pointed to the small boats off to their side. Isaac figured the math in his head and rushed to the head of the group.

“Forgive me for doubting you sir, but I did the math in my head, and that doesn't leave you enough lifeboats for all the people on board,” he said, suddenly nervous. The captain rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Son, you don't miss a thing. You're right, I was told that it would look too cluttered with all those lifeboats. Don't worry Isaac, you're in good hands. This boat is unsinkable,” he winked, leading the group towards the bow. Isaac gnawed on the inside of his cheek, eyeing the boats. He felt the arm of his coat being tugged on and was surprised to see Scott pulling him towards a room. He closed the door and drew closer to him.

“Isaac, I had to see you,” he said breathlessly. Isaac turned away, peering out the window to see if someone had noticed his absence.

“I can't see you Scott,” he stated. Scott cocked his head in question. “I'm engaged! I'm going to marry Charlotte,” he pleaded with Scott, imploring him to understand.

“You're the most amazing, beautiful, clever man I've ever known and..I...I know I'm crazy. I know this isn't going to work out, but I just need to make sure you're okay. You're not happy Isaac. You can't lie to me and tell me you are,” he argued. Isaac crossed his arms and looked at the floor.

“It doesn't matter. You can't make me happy. It's not your job to save me,” he cried, tears brimming in his eyes. Scott smiled, drawing closer and brushing a curl away from his face.

“You're right. Only you can make yourself happy,” he agreed. Isaac turned away, wiping his eyes with the arm of his coat.

“You're wrong,” he shouted, running from the room to rejoin the group he had separated from. Later, he found himself sitting at yet another stuffy dinner with his mother and her latest 'friends' she was trying to woo. Their words fell like hail, dully hitting him and bruising his skin. He glanced over to a nearby table where a young boy sat, being taught by his father how to have good manners and conduct himself at the table. In that moment, Isaac saw that his life from that point on would be hell, perfectly poised hell. He hastily excused himself from the table and sought out Scott. He found him sitting towards the front of the ship, trying to sketch the sunset in black and grey.

“Scott I changed my mind,” he smiled, trying to embrace the boy, but Scott just grabbed his hand and pulled him to the very front of the boat against the railings.

“Step up onto the first rung and hold out your arms. Don't be scared, I'll hold on to you,” he assured him. Isaac held his gaze for a moment before doing as he said. Scott's strong arms encircled his torso holding him steady. The water rushed below him, and with the boat behind him, he felt like a bird.

“We're flying Scott,” he gasped, taking in the beauty of the scene around him. The sun slowly disappeared below the horizon, and Isaac turned to Scott.

“We're flying,” he repeated softly. Isaac pulled his jaw to his own, pressing his lips against Scott's. In that moment, nothing mattered. It didn't matter that he was going to marry Charlotte and that after the ship docked, he and Scott would once again disappear back into separate worlds. The only thing that mattered was Scott's lips on his own and the sun dipping below the water. They broke apart gently, Scott's eyes lingering on the place his lips had just been.

“I have an idea,” Isaac breathed, making his move back to his bedroom. Scott stood in awe at the luxury inside the room. He understood the lavish decorations in the great halls, but he was surprised to see that it even extended to private bedrooms. Isaac disappeared into a small side room and reappeared with a small black box. He popped it open and held the ring out for Scott to look at.

“Holy moly! This is huge. What is it? A sapphire?” He asked turning it over in his hand.

“It's a blue diamond. I want you to draw me wearing it,” he asked. Scott shrugged, a simple enough request. Isaac lowered his voice. “I want you to draw me like one of your French girls, wearing only this,” he smirked. Scott nodded hurriedly and shook his head, trying to clear his nerves. Scott took a seat on an old armchair, drawing his knees up to balance his sketchbook on. Isaac stood in front of him and disrobed, making Scott drop his pencil. The tall boy smirked and laid down on the couch.

“How do you want me?” He asked, unsure where to put his arms. Scott instructed him, making sure the ring was near his face. Scott shook off the butterflies in his stomach and got to work sketching. Soon, he was simply an artist drawing his subject. He began at the head, capturing the soft expression in Isaac's face and the way the blue in the diamond matched the blue in his eyes. He drew gentle curves on the paper, lines that impossibly created an image of the boy in front of him. He worked his way down Isaac's body, finally ending an hour later. Isaac shrugged on his robe and admired Scott's work over his shoulder. “Very nice. I love it,” he smiled, taking off his ring and giving it to Scott to put back in the safe along with the picture while he dressed. Scott placed the items in the safe, exhaling sharply as he thought about the value of the ring.

Isaac flew into the room suddenly, indicating that he had heard noises. Someone was coming. The pair ran out the back door and into the hallway before the person could enter the room. Charlotte's lady's maid along with her father's valet were opening the door. The valet spied the couple out of the corner of his eye and began his pursuit. Their calm walk broke into a swift run as they barreled through the upper deck and clamored down into the basement, the valet hot on their heels. Isaac faked running down a hallway, but the pair really disappeared down into the boiler room. The sweaty men gave them strange looks as they rushed by.

“Don't mind us fellas. You're doing a great job!” He called out gleefully. Isaac turned into a room crowded with boxes and closed the heavy iron door. It was a storage room. The glittering carriage like car in the center of the space drew the pair to it. Scott ran his hands down the exterior, relishing the opportunity to touch such fine machinery. Isaac cleared his throat. “Oh, excuse me sir,” he laughed, opening the door to let Isaac in. He then took his seat at the front, adjusting his imaginary hat and placing his hands on the steering wheel. “Where to?” He asked. Isaac poked his head out of the window.

“Take me to the moon,” he said dreamily. Scott chuckled.

“I'm sorry sir, but that's just a slight impossibility,” he scratched his head. Isaac grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down into the body of the carriage with him. He kissed him hungrily, grabbing his shirt and pulling it off. They lost track of where one body ended and the other ended. Scott panted, and the heat from their bodies fogged up the cold windows of the carriage.

Meanwhile, Charlotte had been informed of her fiance's absence. She barged into Isaac's room, spotting he sketchbook Scott had left behind on the table. She walked to the safe only to see a folded picture on top of it, a nude sketch of Isaac. Shaking with anger, she tossed the paper in the safe and drew out the diamond ring.

Scott and Isaac shuffled out onto the deck, laughing at their cleverness in avoiding Charlotte's henchmen. The cold night air nipped at their skin.

“I'm leaving with you Scott. I'm going with you when this ship arrives,” Isaac smiled, looking down at his lover fondly.

“That's crazy!” Scott laughed, hugging him.

“I know. I guess I'm a little crazy,” he answered. The ship cut through the still waters like a knife through butter. The stars reflected in the water, dusting the calm with snow. In such smooth waters, ice bergs are hard to spot, and the ship had received six warnings of possible icebergs. The watchers didn't see the massive chunk of ice looming ahead in the water until it was too late. They screamed, desperately trying to alert the captain of the iceberg. The helmsman pulled towards the left, trying to move the starboard away from the wall of ice. Despite the immense efforts to stop the boat or steer it away from danger, the ice made contact, scraping the side irreparably and flooding the boiler rooms with cold water. Huge shards of ice hit the deck, startling Isaac and Scott.

“Oh my god, this is insane,” Scott shouted. Isaac pulled him back in the direction of the rooms.

“We have to tell Charlotte and mother. It might be serious,” he relented. The last thing either of them wanted to do was go see their enemies, but they had to alert them.

As soon as they arrived back, Scott was apprehended.

“There you are thief!” Charlotte screeched, reaching into Scott's pocket and pulling out the ring. Scott shook his head in disbelief.

“What? How? They must have planted it in my pocket,” Scott stammered. Isaac had betrayal in his eyes. “No, Isaac. You can't believe them. You know I didn't do this!” He pleaded. Isaac stuttered.

“I-I was with him the whole time. How could he?” He asked. Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him.

“Maybe he did it while you were putting your clothes back on,” she retorted pointedly. “Besides, any professional thief could have done it,” she accused Scott who was fighting against the security and the valet from earlier. Scott was hauled away to a little room in steerage and handcuffed to a pole. The security guard sat in chair with a gun pointed in his direction. Water began to rise in the small porthole, showing that the boat was sinking.

“You know, this boat is going to sink,” the guard chuckled. “And you're going to die with it,” he said smugly. Scott felt his own mortality as the guard left with the key.

The first class passengers were being loaded onto the lifeboats on the deck. Isaac waited with Charlotte and his mother.

“I hope the lifeboats are seated by class,” she tittered, glancing around for an approving face.

“Mother how dare you. You realize there aren't enough lifeboats for the people on this ship right? That means more than half the people aboard this ship are going to die tonight mother,” he scowled. Charlotte chuckled.

“At least the better half will survive,” she agreed. Isaac looked at her in sheer disbelief.

“Women and children only,” the man boarding the boats called. Charlotte and Mrs. Lahey took that as their cue to get on.

“Don't worry Isaac honey. I'm sure they'll begin letting first class men on before they allow second and third class women on. Find us later,” Charlotte called out.

“I'd rather die with your rats than live with you pigs!” He shouted, stalking away to search for Scott.

“Isaac what are you doing?! Isaac!” She shrieked, ordering her manservants to keep an eye on Isaac.

Scott rattled his handcuffs against the pole, screaming for someone to find him deep in the bowels of the ship.  


End file.
